Page 48 of Dead Beside the Thames
Barnaby sank elegantly onto the sofa beside her, while Stokes claimed the armchair next to Jonathon’s and declared, “Finally, we know where Sedbury was murdered, and that it seems he was killed by a single man.”
“Where?” Penelope asked.
“On the Cole Stairs in Upper Shadwell,” Stokes replied. “It’s more a wide landing place than the usual narrow jetty and steps. A boatman on his way home from a local pub saw two men wrestling on the platform.”
“Right time—before one o’clock on Sunday—and expected descriptions,” Barnaby said. “However, his account of a large, heavy bruiser, taller and larger than Sedbury, is still too general to point a finger at the murderer, especially in that area.”
Stokes grunted. “At least not without some other clues to go with it.”
The door opened, and Mostyn appeared, carrying a whip. “I had to cut the leather thong to remove it, Inspector.”
Stokes shrugged as Mostyn handed the unfurling whip to Barnaby, who grasped the handle and explained, “Courtesy of the lads’ network, we located what we believe to be Sedbury’s whip.”
Charlie leaned forward, peering at the whip. He held out a hand. “Here, let me see.”
Barnaby handed the whip over, and Charlie took it and examined the handle, then the thongs. Then he looked at Stokes. “This is definitely Sedbury’s whip. The braiding here”—he pointed to where the thongs left the handle—“is quite unique. I noticed it when I took the whip off him on Saturday morning, and I’ve only ever seen that working on his whip.”
“Perfect.” Stokes’s smile was smugly satisfied. “That’s exactly the confirmation we need.”
Claudia had been studying the whip and looked inquiringly at Barnaby. “Where did you find it?”
He described the pawnshop and their visit to the Sun Tavern. “Cedric the Long told us that he picked up the whip from beside the Cole Stairs, where it was lying discarded when he came past on Sunday morning.”
Penelope sighed. “Well, I’m glad you two have significant advances to report, because as I was explaining to the others before you arrived, I fear that, on mine and their parts, there’s little to no chance that we’ll get anywhere pursuing the question of who might have had motive as well as opportunity to kill Sedbury.” She couldn’t help but look as dejected as she felt. “I interviewed the marchioness today, and as she most sapiently pointed out, the simple truth is that legions of people in all walks of life likely had a motive to kill Sedbury, and as for opportunity,as every one of those motivated souls ipso facto had to have met him, then if moved to kill him, every single tortured soul would have hired a brawler to do it.” She pulled a face at Stokes. “Indeed, just such a brawler as the man who, according to the boatman, did away with the wretch.”
Barnaby caught her eye and smiled sympathetically. “You never met Sedbury, so that wouldn’t have been obvious to you.”
“Yes, well.” She huffed in frustration. “With my usual mode of investigation utterly stymied, I’m not sure what more I can contribute.”
“Actually…” Stokes’s expression of dawning comprehension suggested he’d seen a light. His gaze distant, clearly speaking as he followed his developing thought, he continued, “I think it very likely that even if we could wave a magic wand and learn if any of Sedbury’s many victims had, indeed, hired a brawler to kill him, given what we learned today, the information will prove irrelevant, at least in terms of identifying our murderer.”
Barnaby frowned and asked the question forming on all the others’ tongues. “Why do you think that?”
Clasping his hands between his knees, Stokes leaned forward. “Because the location raises one critical question.” He looked around the circle. “Why was Sedbury there?”
Stokes studied their faces, then reiterated, “What was Sedbury doing—expecting to accomplish—on the Cole Stairs at between twelve-thirty and one o’clock on Sunday morning? We haven’t yet found the hackney driver, but it seems Sedbury went to the spot willingly, apparently to meet with someone who was at least his equal in size and strength.”
Digesting the implications of their latest clues, Barnaby slowly nodded. “More, was Duggan’s sense that Sedbury was looking forward to quashing someone under his heel a reflection of Sedbury’s expectations of that meeting?”
“Only,” Penelope put in, “the meeting went horribly wrong for Sedbury, and he was the one who got quashed by his intended victim.” She thought about that. “Huh! How ironic.”
Claudia said, “Everything seems to hinge on why Sedbury went to that spot.”
Jonathon and Bryan exchanged glances, then Jonathon offered, “I—well, we—have heard rumors that, and I quote, ‘he frequents rougher circles far removed from the ton.’ I never paid much attention to the whispers.” Jonathon grimaced. “The truth was, I didn’t want to know.”
“I can’t say I did, either,” Bryan put in. “But perhaps that was why he was in that area. Because he had some sort of interest there.”
Stokes nodded. “That’s possible, and it’s an angle we can pursue on the ground.” He looked at Penelope and Barnaby. “As I see things now, our most pressing question is how did he get to the Cole Stairs? We assume he took the hackney the whole way, but did he?”
Barnaby stated, “We need to find that hackney driver and learn where he set Sedbury down.”
“And when,” Penelope added.
“That,” Stokes said, “will tell us whether Sedbury went directly to the stairs and his putative meeting was, indeed, with the bruiser who killed him, or whether the meeting Duggan knew of occurred earlier and the encounter on the stairs was something else entirely.”
Barnaby nodded. “We won’t be able to tell until we find that driver.” He met Stokes’s gaze. “I’ll speak with my lads. Now we’ve found the whip, we can concentrate on locating the driver.”
Frowning, Penelope shook her head. “Regardless, what was Sedbury doing in such an area?” She looked at the other Halesand Charlie. “A liking for rougher circles or not, it’s hardly an area that gentlemen frequent.”
